“Sorry, he’s had morphine,” Roy explained.
“I don’t want to talk to the fucking press right now.” He tried to sit up. The press got on his nerves. There was a reason he didn’t give them the time of day. “Roy, you’ll keep them away. Not in the mood.”
“Not a worry. Yates, can you give him something to chill him out?” Roy asked.
“Sure thing. Two milligrams of versed ought to do it. We can’t have him too out of it yet.”
The next dose Yates gave him was freaking magic. The overhead lights moved, and he levitatedthrough the x-ray or CT or whatever it was.
His vision came back when they removed the C-collar, and Yates was back to consent him for conscioussedation and then a shoulder reduction. Bowen scrawled his name on the piece of paper presented to his left hand.
“Is there anyone you want us to call? Family? Friends? Girlfriend?”
“Hell no. Dad only calls when he wants cash. Mom doesn’t need cash since I set her up. And I don’t have a damn girlfriend. Where’s Roy?”
“Oh, boyfriend. Right. Umm. Don’t worry. It’s confidential.”
“No. Roy. The sexy brunette who came with me. Where the hell is she? I want her in here. She said she would be here. She HAS to be here.”
The nurse behind him who had been handling the paperwork said, “Wow, he burned off the versed and the morphine.”
“He’s a professional athlete with plentyof adrenaline in his system.”
“‘He’ is named Bowen, I eat the offense for breakfast, the weenies in admin for lunch, and I want Roy back, now.” He didn’t appreciate her being missing or the arm held braced over his head.
The door opened up, and he saw Roy reenter. “Hey, Roy.”
She was in new green scrubs, and her hair was tied back in a neat, still wet ponytail.
“Why does he keep calling you Roy?” Yates said, adding more meds to Bowen’s IV. “He’s gonna take a lot of versed before the ketamine. Not very chill.”
It had an immediate effect, making Bowen’s eyes heavy and the room swim. A sense of lightness enveloped him.
“Because it’s my nickname. How are you feeling, Mr. Sullivan?”
“Again. It’s Bowen,” he insisted, her form wavering in front of him. “Don’t call me that. The woman I’m in love with cannot call me by my last name.”
“I’m pushing the morphine. You should feel it pretty quickly,” Dr. Yates said.
“I feel great. Roy, I love you,” Bowen declared.
“Very sweet. Yates, you have the ketamine ready?” Roy glanced past Bowen.
“No. Roy. I really love you.” Bowen shifted toward her, his tongue running faster than his forty-yard dash. “I think about you ALL the time. I stopped dating everyone else. I didn’t even have sex with Chastity. Charity. Whatever her crappy name was.”
“Touching. It’s fine, Bowen. Let’s focus on getting your arm fixed.”
“You don’t understand.” He climbed out of the bed, dragging the IV pole with him, and put his good arm around Roy. “I only want to have sex with you. I’ve never gone three months without sex EVER.”
He ignored the whispers for ‘security’ behind him and the oddly beeping monitors. He was shirtless, and Roy was right in his arms where she belonged.
Roy waved her hand behind him, but kept her gaze on his face. “Bowen, you have to get back in the bed.”
“I don’t want to. You’ll be far away, and I want to be close to you. Only you. I won’t hurt you. I can be scary, but I’ll never hurt you.”
“I believe you. However, you’ve got one arm stuck over your head, and the arm you have around me had the IV in it. Which we need to get back in your arm.” She patted his good arm, and that warm feeling came over him.
It didn’t matter what a jackass he was or how many quarterbacks he could sack. Her touch was a reward of its own.
